Caledonia Fae 05 - Elder Druid

by India Drummond

  “I need more tonic.”

  Ewain sighed, scowling with frustration.

  “What’s wrong?” Munro asked.

  “Douglas has not been feeding the Stone,” he grumbled.

  “What about the others?”

  Ewain glared. “No, but then none of the rest of you were as dedicated as Douglas.”

  “Lisle does her part.”

  “Yes,” Ewain spat, “but her blood power does me no good. What use is blood to a dead man?”

  Munro furrowed his brow. Douglas, like Aaron and Rory, was a water druid. “What use is water?”

  “Douglas gives more than he realises.”

  “I don’t understand,” Munro said.

  “Of course you don’t.” He turned to the Stone and whispered, “Douglas.” The sound echoed strangely, grating in Munro’s mind.

  “I’m finding your cryptic answers annoying,” Munro said. “You want my help, but you’re not giving me any information in return.”

  Ewain opened his mouth as though to deliver a scathing remark, but he clamped his aging lips closed instead. After a long silence, he stood. “My tonic keeps your damaged soul intact. I’d think that would be enough of a payment for a few nights’ digging.”

  Munro tilted his head. “I’m done digging, but you need more from me, don’t you?”

  “You still have your soul, don’t you?”

  Munro shrugged. “I suppose. I’m starting to think your talk about the old druids being so powerful was bullshit. Or maybe you were the weakest one. After all, you got stuck in this place, but the others didn’t.”

  Ewain stood and glowered. “The others had to work together to imprison me here. All of them.”

  A moment passed while Munro pondered. So Ewain hadn’t gotten stuck by accident as he’d claimed. Munro wondered at the wisdom of their plan to create a gate. If Ewain had been jailed, there had perhaps been good reason. But what choice did he have? “Why would they turn against you?”

  “You’ve seen the phenomenon yourself,” Ewain said. “The fae began to fear the azuri, spirit and blood most of all. Juno and I were cast out. I think Mari and Falon, the two gifted with temporal and astral flows, thought if they cast their lot with the others, they would be spared.” The elder druid stared hard at Munro. “They were not.”

  “You said all the others worked to imprison you. Did that include Juno?” Munro asked.

  “They compelled her. She never would betray me willingly, but Falon twisted her mind and turned Juno against me. He melded his power with Mari’s, showing Juno a false and bleak future: one path that ignored a thousand happier possibilities.”

  Munro nodded. “What happens when we leave here?” he asked. “What will you do in the Otherworld?”

  “I will live,” Ewain said. “For now, that is enough for me. I wish only to return home.”

  “Where was your home?”

  Ewain’s frown deepened, and he didn’t answer.

  “You could come to the Druid Hall,” Munro said. “Your understanding of druidic power would be of immense help. Your experience might change everything, and we would stop fumbling in the dark for answers. I can’t tell you how much we need a teacher like you.”

  Ewain gave him a puzzling look Munro couldn’t interpret. “Perhaps. We’ll worry about where to go when the time comes. For now, we must restore your strength.” He paused. “If you call to Douglas through the Shadow Stone, I believe he may respond. He might trust your voice more than mine. We must convince him to feed the Stone. Otherwise, we’ll never gather enough power to awaken our gate.”

  The elder druid led Munro up the rock stair. Instead of going to the chute Munro had climbed down, Ewain pointed to a wide, open corridor that didn’t exist in the Otherworld. “When I first discovered this place, I used the same route you did. Since then, I’ve built a more civilised path. This way.”

  ∞

  Tràth sat across from Prince Griogair, stunned and dismayed at the news of Munro’s death and Eilidh’s collapse. “I’d like to see her,” he said.

  Griogair sighed. “If you wish, but she won’t acknowledge you. She hasn’t spoken since the event. She merely stares. I’m sorry, son. I know how much she means to you.”

  “And to you, father,” Tràth said. “The healers and elders offer no hope?” How strange that his father had lost his mate, a faerie he loved, and yet he was the one comforting Tràth.

  “Elder Oron won’t say one way or the other. He now puts his efforts into soothing Maiya. He hopes the child can reach her mother, but she’s so young and her astral abilities untrained.”

  “I’m amazed at the clarity of her communication. That level of telepathy must be rare indeed.”

  Griogair nodded. “Several members of the azuri half of the joint-conclave arrived to work with her, but none are as capable as Elder Oron himself. If anyone can guide Maiya, he can. Still, to pin our hopes for Eilidh’s recovery on a one-year-old seems ludicrous.”

  “You’ll accept the regency, then?”

  “After the Druid Hall announces Munro’s death, I will declare a month of mourning for Eilidh’s second mate. During that time I can keep news of her condition secret. After that time passes, if she has not shown improvement, I will be forced to reveal her deterioration. Likewise, the conclave will be compelled to act. The only awkward situation between now and then will be her absence at his death rites.”

  Tràth shook his head. “Word of their love for one another was well known in the kingdom. You must know how people talked about Maiya being conceived without the need for a sacrifice to the Mother. I think everyone will understand her grief.” He paused. “If you accept the regency, but if Eilidh recovers before Maiya comes of age, will the title revert to her?”

  Griogair shook his head. “No. The conclave will have raised Maiya as queen. If, at a later time, Eilidh regains her strength and faculties, the best we might arrange is to transfer my status as regent to her until Maiya comes of age.”

  “I should postpone the announcement of my contract with Princess Imena. A celebration would be unseemly at a time like this,” Tràth said.

  Griogair tilted his head, studying the two contracts Tràth had brought him. “You achieved favourable terms for trade. I’m impressed,” he said. “You did well.”

  Tràth felt uncomfortable accepting the praise under the circumstances.

  “I must speak with the druids, but I see no reason to delay your announcement.” He picked up the mating contract. “This is what you want?” He raised his gaze to meet his son’s.

  “Imena is a strong faerie, both in power and personality. She seems dedicated to change in her kingdom, something I’d like to be a part of. Becoming her consort would benefit Caledonia. Do you not think so?”

  Griogair rubbed the bridge of his nose. “No doubt the situation would offer us many advantages,” he said. “You are of age, so the choice is yours.” After a pause he added, “What does Douglas say?”

  “I haven’t told him.” Tràth shrugged. “He doesn’t care what I do. I don’t see why I should trouble him with my decision.”

  “You signed this formal pledge to Imena, but not yet taken the mating vow. Before you do, you should consider your bond to Douglas. Elder Oron was most unhappy when he learned of your plan to stifle the bond. I witnessed first-hand the power of the bond between Eilidh and Munro—”

  “Forgive me, father, but Douglas and I are not Eilidh and Munro. I gave my word to Imena and to the Zalian conclave. I won’t break my promise.”

  Griogair nodded. “I’m pleased to hear you do not take the commitment lightly. If I may say so, son, you have changed much in a short time.”

  “I long ago passed the day when I should have grown up.” He gestured to the contracts. “I did this for Eilidh, who was more like a mother to me in two years than the woman who birthed me had been in nearly eighteen decades. I made this choice for Caledonia. You would do the same in my place.”

  Griogair tilted
his head. “Perhaps—”

  A steward entered the study, interrupting the prince. “Forgive me, Your Highness,” he said. “Lord Druid Aaron is in the courtyard, insisting to see you. I told him you were busy with Prince Tràth, but he issued a command.”

  “Did he?” Griogair’s eyebrow twitched upward. “Very well. Show him up.”

  “And another matter, Your Highness. A messenger arrived with an invitation to meet with Queen Konstanze tonight at the Ashkyne Hall.”

  Griogair blinked in surprise. “That’s…unusual.”

  “Indeed,” the steward said. “I assumed you would wish to decline and indicated as much, but the messenger said Queen Konstanze asks you to consider why she makes this request of you.”

  Griogair looked puzzled, then his expression darkened. “Faith,” he swore. “Draft an acceptance. I will visit the Ashkyne Hall when I’m finished here.”

  Tràth watched with interest. He didn’t understand what the additional message meant, but clearly something had upset his father. When the steward left, Tràth continued their conversation. “Father,” he said. “If I might make a suggestion? Perhaps consider asking Lady Druid Lisle if her grandson Jago can visit Maiya. We can’t deny the connection the children share or the significance of his claims of communication with her even before she was born. Bearing in mind her extraordinary telepathic gifts, we must assume he didn’t exaggerate. She may respond to him in a way she won’t to anyone else.”

  Griogair stared for a moment. “A good idea,” he said. “You know his grandmother better than I. Do you expect she will agree?”

  Tràth nodded. “I can’t think of a reason why she wouldn’t. There doesn’t appear to be any obvious danger.”

  “How long will you stay in the Halls of Mist?” Griogair asked.

  “I promised Imena I would return as soon as possible after delivering the contracts and making the necessary arrangements. She’s organising a dinner in two weeks’ time with the most prominent Zalian nobles to formally introduce me. Of course, I’ll ask for a postponement.”

  “They may not agree,” Griogair said.

  “Why not?” Tràth said, astonished at the thought.

  Griogair shook his head. “Your new position will take some getting used to, but as of the moment you signed this, you owe loyalty to Queen Naima. A death of a friend, while tragic, won’t override the substantial demands of the kingdom.”

  “But Eilidh’s condition—”

  “Won’t be public knowledge for at least a month. I cannot compel you to keep the news from Queen Naima and Princess Imena. However, it would be best for Caledonia if you said she was unwell and didn’t receive you. If you do not try to visit Eilidh, both statements will be true and thus you will not compromise your loyalty.”

  “I find it difficult to believe they wouldn’t sympathise when I tell them a good friend and someone who has been like a member of the family died.”

  “He may have been like a member of the family, but he was human. No doubt they will encourage you to attend his death rites, then resume your duties, which, according to this, will be many.” He tapped the contract.

  The steward returned. “Lord Druid Aaron, Your Highnesses.”

  Both princes rose, and when Aaron entered, they bowed to him. “Good evening,” Prince Griogair said.

  “Hey,” Aaron replied. “Hello, Tràth.”

  Tràth quirked a smile at the typically casual response. “Hello,” he said, then turned serious. “I’m so sorry to hear about Munro, may he rest in the bosom of the Mother.”

  Aaron gave a small nod. “I was shocked too. We’re struggling with how to move forward and worried about Eilidh, of course,” he said with a gesture toward Griogair.

  “Thank you,” Griogair said. “Please. Sit.” He gestured to a seat opposite him.

  “I’ll leave you to your discussions,” Tràth said.

  “Before you go,” Aaron said, “I need to talk to you, too. About Douglas.”

  Tràth stiffened. He’d not planned to see his druid. They’d said what they needed to before he left.

  “Look, I understand you’ve been through a lot,” Aaron said.

  Tràth interrupted. “You have no idea, Aaron.”

  Griogair blinked at the candidness of his son’s response but didn’t say anything.

  “I must insist that you listen,” Aaron said. His expression wasn’t unsympathetic, but there was a firmness in his tone Tràth wasn’t accustomed to. “Joy and I completed our bond.”

  “Her name is Joy?” Tràth wondered if this was an abbreviation of a fae name or if Aaron had chosen to call her that. “I’m happy for you both.”

  “Here’s what this means to you: I understand the bond in a way I never could before. I’ve spoken to Douglas, and he has things to say to you. All I ask is that you listen.”

  Tràth shifted uncomfortably. “I’m afraid I won’t have time to visit the Druid Hall. I need to close my house at the Gap of Bria, manage the dissolution of my current staff, speak with the Keepers, address the Caledonian conclave about a teaching envoy to Zalia, and arrange for at least one scholar to accompany me when I return.”

  “You’re going to become Imena’s mate.” Aaron’s mouth was set in a grim line.

  “I’ve signed the contract outlining our arrangement.”

  “Before you do any of that, speak with Douglas. There are facts you aren’t aware of, Tràth. I’d tell you myself, but he needs to be the one to do it.”

  Admittedly, the admission piqued Tràth’s interest, but only momentarily. “I’m afraid what you ask is not possible. Perhaps next time.”

  Aaron shook his head. “One of the things I didn’t tell you about, only because I never got the chance, happened the day we met Joy. I discovered something in the Zalian archives, writings about the Stone. I hoped Munro would look at them. He was even better with runes than most of the Keepers. With him gone, we will need to send Douglas.”

  Tràth felt cold creeping over his skin. “The Keepers can interpret runes for you as easily as Douglas.”

  “No,” Aaron said, his voice hard. “They can’t. The Keepers serve their own interests, not those of the Hall.” He sighed. “I count you as a friend. I don’t want this to be more difficult than it must.”

  “Why do you not accept my decision?” Tràth asked. “If you recall, the choice wasn’t entirely mine. Douglas made his wishes clear.”

  Aaron gritted his teeth as though restraining his temper.

  Griogair interrupted and addressed Tràth. “Would you find it so difficult to do as the druid lord requests?”

  “I would,” Tràth said. He turned to Aaron. “I understand you believe you’re helping both of us, but we’ve chosen our path.”

  “You will speak to Douglas. Tonight.” Aaron’s gaze was unrelenting.

  Tràth blinked. Aaron was commanding him? He paused in stunned silence. “You would threaten me?”

  Aaron shook his head. “I shouldn’t have to. I am draoidh, and my word is law.”

  Anger made Tràth flush, but he recognised he had no choice. He stood stiffly. “Very well, my lord druid,” he said and bowed. He waited a moment. He nearly expected Aaron to say he was joking and wouldn’t use his position to force Tràth to do this, but the druid didn’t budge. Instead, he tilted his head in acknowledgement of Tràth’s acquiescence.

  “Now, if you’ll excuse us, I need to speak to Prince Griogair on other matters.” Aaron gestured to the door.

  “You’ve changed,” Tràth said.

  “Aye,” Aaron said. “Life has given us all difficult choices lately. I’m sorry it had to be this way. I hope there won’t be any hard feelings, but I have my reasons.”

  “Of course,” Tràth said. He bowed again to Aaron and nodded to his father, who had watched the exchange with rapt interest. Tràth left the study and walked into the corridor. He proceeded slowly, but he had no choice but to do what Aaron demanded. With no excuse for delay, he headed toward the Druid Hall.


  Chapter 19

  Tràth entered the courtyard of the Druid Hall and stood, contemplating the wondrous artefacts the druids had built, the lifelike statues, the contained but flowing water, the way they’d incorporated design from their homeland with faerie influence. Despite their humble origins, they were remarkable people. No faerie could pass through this simple, garden-like courtyard and fail to be awed by the subtle hints of their immense but restrained power.

  “Your Highness?” a voice inquired. Tràth had become so lost in thought, he hadn’t noticed Hon, the head steward, approach.

  Tràth tried to smile, but the clenching in his gut made the gesture difficult. “Would you please tell Lord Druid Douglas I would like to see him?”

  Confusion crossed Hon’s face for an instant. Tràth was one of the few permitted to come and go in the Druid Hall as he pleased. He didn’t need an invitation to go up. “Of course,” Hon said and bowed.

  Tràth half-hoped Douglas either wasn’t in or would refuse to see him. How strange it was to be unable to sense Douglas’ presence, to know the other man’s state of mind or even be certain where he was.

  Within a few moments, the steward returned. “Lord Druid Douglas has invited you to his private sitting room,” he said and gestured toward the broad inner stair. Tràth nodded with resignation and followed the steward, even though the way was familiar. “He’s asked me to send up a light meal and requested that you stay and join him.”

  Could he refuse? Tràth sighed. Better not. Although this would be a personal conversation, he was having it at the command of a druid lord. Any disagreeableness on his part would reflect on Zalia now. He wondered how far Aaron might go if Tràth didn’t do as directed. On the other hand, all Aaron demanded was that Tràth listen to Douglas. He would do so and be polite in the process. “Very well,” Tràth said. “Thank you.”

  Hon stopped and bowed at the archway to Douglas’ suite, leaving Tràth to enter alone. Whatever Tràth expected to find, it certainly wasn’t the chaos that greeted him. Large wooden packing boxes littered the room, most half-stuffed with clothing or personal items, as well as one crate full of runed artefacts. Everything appeared as though he was planning to leave and never return. Tràth’s stomach tightened.